The Pokemon Sketch
by C. Jones
Summary: Jones decides to try to get involved in a Pokemon tournament at his local Pokeshop. Now if only his pit-bu... er... his loyal pokemon will only play along...


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Date: Tue, 28 Dec 1999 11:41:26 -0600  
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Subject: [FFML] The Pokemon Sketch  
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------------------------------  
The Pokemon Sketch  
  
by Chris Jones  
------------------------------  
  
Jones walked into the local poke-shop. It was loud and  
noisy. The pokemon were loud, but didn't raise nearly the fuss  
of all the people who were screaming and shouting. Smiling,  
Jones walked past the counter and into the gaming area, where  
about a dozen young men and a few young women were fighting  
their pokemon against each other.  
  
"Woof," a loud, wet voice sounded up from below him.  
  
"Yeah! Hey, who wants to fight my pokemon?" Jones shouted  
out.  
  
The person obviously in charge of the group, a young man  
who was cradling a Pikachu protectively against his chest,  
strode over to Jones. He glanced down at what Jones had  
brought into the shop.  
  
"What do you want?" he demanded angrily.  
  
"I just want to play," Jones said. "I brought a pokemon  
and everything!"  
  
"Where's your pokemon?" the leader asked disdainfully.  
  
"Right here!" Jones explained, pointing down beside  
himself.  
  
"Uhh.. what's that supposed to be?"  
  
"Woof."  
  
"It's a pokemon," Jones explained.  
  
"It's not a pokemon. It's just a dog."  
  
"It's a pokemon. His name is 'Barko'."  
  
"It's just a dog!" The youth insisted, clutching his  
Pikachu to his chest.  
  
"Look, it comes with a pokeball and everything."  
  
"That's not a pokeball. You just painted the leash red.  
See, there's still wet paint on it."  
  
"It's furry like a pokemon," Jones defended Barko.  
  
"You don't have to be furry to be a pokemon," one of their  
observers noted. He pulled out a pokeball and released a  
noxious cloud of gas. "It's a Koffing. It's a gas-type  
pokemon!" It can use the 'Poison Gas' attack."  
  
"So can Barko."  
  
"No he can't!"  
  
"Go, Barko!" Jones nudged Barko in the ribs with his shoe.  
  
*FBFBFBBFTTTT*  
  
After a few seconds, Barko had an immensely relieved look  
on his face. Around him, people began to gag and wretch. The  
worst of the dry-heavers ran for cover  
  
"Ewwww..."  
  
"I told you that Barko can use 'Poison Gas' attack," Jones  
announced with a proud 'I-told-you-so' expression. "He can  
also do 'Thrash', 'Maim', 'Whiz', and if he gets excited, he  
can do the dreaded 'Hump' attack as well."  
  
As Jones and Barko's detractors continued to argue, a  
little girl walked up to the pit-bull Pokemon.  
  
With nary a thought, Barko snatched the Squirtle out of  
her hands and began to savage it.  
  
"Squirtle!! No!!!!"  
  
"It can't be a pokemon," the leader of the youths, the  
young man with the Pikachu, finally insisted.  
  
"And why not?" Jones demanded.  
  
"Because I said so," the leader stated firmly.  
  
"Give Squirtle back!"  
  
*GNAW* *GNAW* *GNAW*  
  
"squeee..." the Squirtle wheezed.  
  
"Squirtle!"  
  
"He can fight any pokemon any of you have any day of the  
week!" Jones countered. "You're all just chicken. Look, he's  
doing his 'Slobber' attack right now!"  
  
"Give... it... BACK!" the little girl demanded, doing her  
best to try to work the Squirtle out of Barko's mouth.  
  
*GNAW* *GNAW* *GNAW*  
  
"Mommy!"  
  
"Well, if your Pikachu isn't going to fight Barko  
voluntarily," Jones countered. "Then I'll have to formally  
challenge you."  
  
"You can't challenge me without a pokemon!"  
  
"I've got Barko!"  
  
"BARKO IS A DOG!"  
  
"Pokemon!"  
  
"DOG!"  
  
"Pokemon!"  
  
"DOG! DOG! DOG! DOG! DOG! DOG! DOG!"  
  
"Pokemon!"  
  
"DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGGGGGGG! DOG! DOG! DOG!"  
  
"Pokemon!"  
  
"I want my Squirtle back! Mommy!!!!"  
  
"Come here, you beast," the little girl's mother demanded,  
trying to get the Squirtle back away from Barko.  
  
"JIM!" the leader of the poke-youth-s called out.  
  
Jim, the cashier on duty at the Pokeshop, walked over,  
sighing in irritation. He was wearing a shirt that said, "Ask  
me about the new 'Forest Pokemon'. He was also wearing a  
button that said 'I am damn sick and tired of Pokemon.'  
  
"Okay, what seems to be the problem *this* time?" Jim  
asked.  
  
"This guy wants to challenge me, but he doesn't have a  
pokemon!"  
  
"I've got a Barko pokemon!" Jones explained.  
  
"Jones, are you picking on the little kids again?" Jim  
asked.  
  
"Moi?" Jones asked, all innocence and light.  
  
"Give it here, damnit! Give... ME... THE... POKEMON...."  
  
"Rules are rules, kid," Jim explained to the leader of the  
poke-youth. "If you refuse a challenge, it goes down in your  
badge book as a defeat."  
  
"I... I..." the leader clutched at his vest pocket  
protectively. "You can't mark me a defeat for not wanting to sacrifice my Pikachu to this monster."  
  
*GNAW* *GNAW* *GNAW* *SLURP*  
  
"It's not a monster, It's Barko!"  
  
"Don't mess with me, mutt! I'm a lawyer! If you don't give  
me the pokemon *right* now, I'll have your ass in the  
dog-pound so fast, it'll make your head spin."  
  
"Woof," Barko... well... barked. A wet, sticky, and  
somewhat mangled Squirtle fell to the floor at the woman's  
feet.  
  
"There," she said, trying to find a dry spot to pick up  
the limp Squirtle. "There's your pokemon back, so why don't  
you go play."  
  
"Ewww.... Don't wanna!"  
  
"Look," Jim explained, slipping into his 'angry-but-patient'  
voice. "You can take up the challenge, or you can refuse it.  
It's that simple. I didn't make up the rules, but I'm damn  
sure gonna make you play by them!"  
  
"What you do mean, 'Don't wanna'?! I spent forty dollars  
on that idiotic thing, and you're damn well going to play with  
it!"  
  
"It's all squishy now," the little girl noted, holding the  
dripping Squirtle at arm's length. "And it's leaking!"  
  
*WHIZZZZZZZ....*  
  
"Bad Barko!" Jones scolded. "She didn't mean for you to  
leak! You're only supposed to do that in a fight!"  
  
"Yagh!" Jim yelped, doing his best to shove some old  
newspaper under Barko before it was too late. "Listen, kid.  
Why don't you just surrender so he'll take the Barko away.  
It's tearing up my store!"  
  
"Alright, you bastard," the leader of the poke-youth  
shouted. "If you want a fight, you've got one! My Pikachu can  
toast your mutt any day of the week!"  
  
"Didja hear that, Barko! You're gonna get to have dinner  
after all!"  
  
"Woof."  
  
"Mommy! I wannna new Squirtle!"  
  
"I'm not going to spend any more money on this nonsense!"  
the angry mother declared. "Now why don't you put the pokemon  
down, and we can go do something nice and sensible. I'll buy  
you a new Barbie, okay?"  
  
"WANNA SQUIRTLE!!!"  
  
The nervous Pikachu climbed down off of his master, and  
bravely faced Barko across the pokeshop floor.  
  
"Go, Pikachu!" the leader of the poke-youths commanded.  
  
"Sic, Barko!" Jones shouted, releasing the catch on the  
leash and slapping Barko on the back. "Sic! Go gettem, boy!"  
  
"Aaawoof!"  
  
The Pikachu's nerve broke, and he began to run in fright.  
  
"WANNA SQUIRTLE! WANNA SQUIRTLE!!!"  
  
"I'M NOT BUYING ANOTHER DAMN POKEMON!!!!" the mother  
screamed out.  
  
"Pika!!!!" the Pikachu cried out in panic as Barko's  
slathering jaws closed around him.  
  
"I'll hold my breath and die if I don't get a new  
Squirtle!"  
  
"Oh my God," Jim muttered, turning his head sideways to  
look at the fight. "What is he doing to it?"  
  
"Ah," Jones noted, also turning sideways slightly. "That  
would be Barko's dreaded 'Hump' attack."  
  
"PIKACHU! NOOOOOOO!!!!" the poke-leader cried out.  
  
"SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!  
SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!"  
  
"No! I'm counting to three!"  
  
"SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!  
SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!"  
  
"Yeeouch!" Jim sympathized, wincing involuntarily. "That's  
gonna take a few stitches."  
  
"No! You monster! Get away from my Pikachu!!!!"  
  
"One..." the mother called out.  
  
"SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!  
SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!"  
  
"Finish him, Barko!" Jones commanded.  
  
"Two..."  
  
All that was visible of the Pikachu from the fight was a  
blur of yellow and brown as Barko thrashed his head back and  
forth, mad with the joy of the kill.  
  
"SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!  
SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!"  
  
"Will you shut up, you little brat?!" Jim yelled behind  
his shoulder.  
  
*GNAW* *GNAW* *GNAW* *SLURP*  
  
"Three..."  
  
"SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!  
SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!"  
  
"I'm warning you," the mother shouted angrily. "Don't make  
me start counting again!"  
  
"Pikachu..." the poke-leader whispered, his face white  
with shock from the carnage.  
  
"URRRP," Barko belched. He then executed his 'Poison Gas'  
attack again.  
  
"Fatality!" Jones yelled out in glee.  
  
"SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!  
SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE! SQUIRTLE!"  
  
"Pikachu..." the poke-leader cried out, running over to  
the little yellow puddle. "What have they done to you?!?!  
Speak to me, Pikachu!"  
  
"Pika..." the poke-puddle bubbled.  
  
"Alright, I'll use *my* hard earned money and buy you  
another God-forsaken pokemon. Are you happy now?"  
  
"Hey, lady," Jim suggested. "I think we've got a slightly  
used Pikachu you can pick up cheap," he stated, pointing to  
the poke-leader, who was doing his best to get the bleeding  
stopped.  
  
"Okay!" Jones called out, doing his best to wrestle Barko  
back onto his leash. "Barko is undefeated. Who's next?"  
  
"Um... I gotta go home now," one youth called out, quickly  
gathering up his pokemon and dashing for the door. "My dad  
wants me to mow the lawn."  
  
"His dad wants me to mow the lawn too," another one called  
out, doing his best not to look at the sight of the mangled  
Pikachu as he ran for the exit.  
  
Within seconds, most of the poke-youth had cleared out of  
the shop. Jim was happily ringing up another $40 Squirtle, and  
running the lady's VISA through his machine. Even the Pikachu  
owner straggled out of the shop, doing his best to keep all  
the bits together as he trudged away.  
  
"We'll show them all, Pikachu! We'll get you fixed up and  
we'll get that reattached, and you'll be in as good a shape as  
ever. We'll show them..."  
  
"Pika..."  
  
Since there were no more of the pokemon left, Barko panted  
and looked around in dissapointment. Out of boredom, he  
executed his 'Whiz' attack on the little girl as she waited  
for her new Squirtle.  
  
"Ewwwwww.... Yucky!!!!"  
  
The lady grabbed her daughter roughly by the arm and  
propelled her out of the shop. "Well I never!!!"  
  
"Never what?" Jones asked.  
  
"I will *never* ever come back here again."  
  
"Not until the brat starts screaming again, at any rate,"  
Jim noted.  
  
Jones nodded sagely, and found a seat next to the counter.  
He wrapped Barko's leash around a convenient doorknob, and  
looked expectantly at Jim.  
  
For several seconds, the two sat and listened to nothing.  
The only sound in the entire shop was from a guy near the back  
of the store turning the pages of a samurai manga.  
  
Jim reached under the counter and pulled out a remote  
control. The TV above the counter winked on, and a 'Frasier'  
rerun began to play.  
  
"I owe you, Man," Jim admitted, savoring the relative  
silence.  
  
"Bigtime," Jones agreed.  
  
"Woof."  
  
  
_ _ _  
  
Dedicated to Jim, and all the other brave comic shop and game room  
workers out there, who really are damn sick and tired of Pokemon.  
  
* * *  
C. Jones  
http://www.furinkan.net  
  
If we shadows have offended,  
Think but this, and all is mended,  
That you have but slumber'd here  
While these visions did appear.  
  
- Puck: A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 5, Scene 1  
  
  
  



End file.
